Held At Bay
by TVFanoftheYear
Summary: He was the stone, she was the water. One-shot.


Shane wasn't sure what drew her out of sleep first: the distant sound of seagulls, waves crashing on the shore, or the distant sound of a fishing boat's horn signaling it's arrival at harbor. Whatever it was that drew her awake didn't matter, because the sight before her as her eyes adjusted to the early morning light caused her to smile.

She had never been to Maine before, but rising to pull back the curtains on the open window overlooking the rocky, empty shores only about 1,000 yards away, Shane found it very difficult to fathom leaving this heaven nestled in a remote corner of South Portland's shores.

It was actually a small miracle she was standing in this beautiful room she shared with Rita at all. It was Memorial Day weekend, and, as luck would have it, a letter made it's way to the DLO that shared an address, and, by some unfathomable coincidence, recipients of the same name in both California and Maine. They had ruled out the potential recipient in California, forcing them to procure last minute lodging in Maine to ensure the letter's proper delivery. Had it not been for Norman's insistence that they avoid a casual Google search and employ the phonebook, it is very likely that they would have never found the Pearl Shore Inn and the two rooms, perfectly furnished to accomodate two sets of people, that they occupied now. The couple that owned it eschewed the digital age, and refused to list their lodging anywhere but the phonebook.

Deciding to capture the beautiful moment unfolding outside her window, Shane began to quietly get dressed, careful not to disturb Rita. She supposed she should have desired to share such a beautiful moment with her roommate, but she wanted this rare and quiet moment of beauty to think and reflect alone. They would be there a few more days, giving her plenty of time to share it with her friend.

Shane pulled a long cotton skirt and blouse from her suitcase, along with a heavier knit button-up sweater, noting the chill of the morning air the longer she spent away from the warmth of her blankets. It took her no time to put the garments on. She smiled as she passed the full length mirror as she left her room. This was probably the furthest from her Denver style as she had strayed in a while, a necessity of time spent in a very different climate. It certainly made things feel like a vacation, despite knowing otherwise.

She carefully left her sleeping companion in their room, careful not to shut the door too loudly and resolving to tip-toe her way downstairs and out the backdoor towards the awakening morning. As she descended the stairs, she took in the photography of the area hung on the walls enclosing the staircase. There was something romantic about black and white photos of the fishing boats, historic lighthouses and empty adirondack chairs looking out towards the ocean.

It was only when Shane reached the bottom of the staircase that she realized she had forgotten a pair of sandals in her room. It only took her a second to commit to leaving them behind, opting instead for the feeling of sand between her toes, a feeling rare typically reserved for vacations to the beach, which had only taken place twice in her life prior.

Crossing the threshold out onto the beautiful wrap-around porch affirmed her decision to go barefoot, the warmth of the wood a welcome touch to her feet, soon crossing into the beautiful sands that stretched to the rocky shores not far from where she stood, Shane taking a moment to breath in the coastal air. Before her, shades of orange, blue, gray, yellow and purple stretched across the sky, meeting the horizon somewhere between where she stood and eternity. She stood in quiet awe for a moment until the few waves crashing upon the shore beckoned her to come closer.

The moment Shane found herself in was overwhelming and all consuming. It was moments like these that she was convinced that all this beauty before her was a divinely orchestrated masterpiece. She felt small, but somehow protected and safe. She allowed her arms to cross, one hand caressing the medallion necklace her father had given her some time ago, meant to be a token of protection and luck for his daughter. Sometimes she wondered if, wherever her father was, he could see her and what an adventure her life had become. A peace overcame her, and she couldn't help but feel like whatever she did and wherever she went, her dad was there.

She suddenly had the urge to hold back tears, her noes twitching to force them back in. They weren't tears of sadness, but of happiness, contentment, an emerging and evolving belief in something greater that she hadn't quite fully embraced yet, but was well on her way to doing so.

Shane suspected that some of this growing awareness of the world around her could be directly tied back to Oliver. His faith intrigued her, but it also inspired her. It had taken a while for her to make this connection, mostly because the distance between Oliver's heart and hers had taken time to close. The further behind Oliver left the burdens he once carried, the closer she and Oliver became. He now knew how she spent most of her summers growing up, where she attended college and why. Shane learned more about Oliver's parents, his summers at Boulder Creek, and all those life details one would expect close friends be privy to.

His marriage to Holly had quietly ended some time ago, or so it felt to Shane as she looked out onto the sea. So, too, had he and Shane quietly worked through it, the ebb and flow of their relationship a common and somehow comforting pattern of push and pull that gave way to a very deep understanding of each other. It wasn't like in those early days when things came bursting out in an emotional rush. Now there was a connection being made between them that reached out beyond where either of them could fathom. And while those quiet moments where he held her gaze for an extra few seconds or two- and vice versa- were now common, the occasional flicker of fear that one had glimpsed past the defenses of the other had more or less disappeared and they were open books now. The words that said as much, however, had yet to follow.

But where Shane had once felt herself propelled forward largely by her unwavering curiosity, and, she later realized, desire to control the unknown, something else inside was giving her the quiet strength to simply allow the journey to unfold in front of her like a patchwork quilt still being carefully sewn together, each patch another moment or memory tying she and Oliver together. It was both humbling and exciting.

Shane took a deep breath in and out, a smiling creeping across her face as the wind whipped once more, causing her to draw her sweater tighter around herself.

* * *

Oliver never felt closer to God than when he was surrounded by the natural wonders He created. That's why Oliver had carefully chosen this particular chair on the sprawling wrap-around porch overlooking the ocean for his devotional time. He usually rose early with the intent to give his day to God, and today was no different. What was different, though, was the view he was taking in. To Oliver, there was no question that God was in every bit of it-every hue in the sunrise, the way the waves crashed against the shore and the winds they brought with them, the seagulls and even the sound of a horn from an approaching boat. It was a beautifully orchestrated act of the divine.

A rush of aired funneled through the porch causing him to reach for the buttons of his suit jacket, only to be reminded that the present circumstances, climate and his pending assignment had required him to pursue another path of clothing which was still new to him. He had opted for a pair of dark jeans, a shirt that mimmicked thermal underwear and a military style jacket that both zipped and buttoned. And although he thought the duplication of fastening devices was unnecessary, the chill that ripped through the air made him grateful for the chance to banish the cold morning air for a time. He supposed this feature would be ideal when he boarded a fishing boat later to a neighboring island in search of their letter recipient.

As soon as he was more comfortable, though, he allowed his thoughts to once more meditate on the Lord and His creation. As he prayed, all the same topics emerged-peace that passes understanding, a renewed mind and heart, but also included what Oliver referred to as "a constantly renewed clarity for the path forward." Oliver laughed at himself a bit-what good was it to try and conceal from the Creator of all that what he truly meant was,_ what do I do about Shane_?

It was a topic he tactfully avoided both in and out of his prayer life. He had every intention of making his feelings known, but simply hadn't felt God's prompting to do so. He didn't intend to move an inch in that direction without the proper affirmation, not to mention the shrinking-but still evident-fear of making himself vulnerable to the kind of hurt his marriage to Holly had exposed him to. He knew better than to make a comparison between the situations, but he was human, and the thoughts still came.

Getting to know Shane, and the heart that she so frequently wore on her sleeve, had been an honor and a privilege to Oliver. They had been through a lot together-he, Rita, Norman and Shane-and seen even more. But somehow he always seemed to share a connection with Shane much different than any he'd shared with anyone in a long time. He could look at her and immediately know he was understood in a way he had never felt understood before. And she always knew how to respond, even if that meant not responding at all.

As his mind quieted, focusing on the sound of the waves crashing upon the shore, the words he had been looking for to describe his relationship with Shane revealed themselves. He was the shore, Shane the water. He stood timeless and unchanging. She was the waves- gentle but persistent-pushing and pulling, cleansing the rocks of all the imperfections life had brought to shore, exposing the elements of the stone and laying them bare, as constant as the shore is unchanging. She left Oliver better than she found him. There was something uniquely profound about it, and the thought left him breathless for a moment.

His eyes opened, and he found himself clutching the study Bible in his lap he had had for more years than he even remembered.

_I'm in love with Shane McInerney_, he thought reverently.

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Oliver had never let the phrase complete itself in his mind, nor had he ever experienced the peace the full admission allowed him. And he knew it really had nothing to do with him at all, but was the "renewed clarity for the path forward" he diligently and patiently prayed for. And with that clarity came an obligation-an obligation to pursue the path laid out for him.

Oliver's eyes drifted oncemore to the shore, once empty, now occupied by a very familiar figure. She seemed so small in the midst of the coastal landscape, but it was a beautiful sight. Oliver abandoned his seaside perch to meet Shane at the shore. She didn't seem to notice him at first, nor did he make any attempt to draw her out of her moment.

Feeling his presence, Shane turned slighlty to see Oliver had joined her.

"Goodmorning, Oliver," She smiled.

"Goodmorning, Miss McInerney," he replied sweetly.

"Did the seagulls wake you, too?" Shane inquired.

"No," he laughed and gestured to the Bible he carried with him, "Morning study."

"Well you certainly chose a beautiful place," she commented, turning her attention back towards the water.

"Yes, I did," Oliver replied, his gaze daring to linger on Shane's profile a bit longer than he'd anticipated, but not long enough to call her attention back to him.

The truth was, Oliver wasn't sure how to proceed. For all the moments and all the conversations they had shared, he couldn't compose a sentence to express to the woman standing next to him all the ways she had captivated his mind, his heart and his very soul.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea; My love as deep. The more I give to thee; The more I have, for both are infinite," Oliver recited aloud. It was as if the conversation occurring in his mind had spilled out into words that weren't his.

"Shakespeare," Shane sighed, her mind peripherally beginning to wonder why it was that quote he'd chosen to recite.

"Very good, Miss McInerney," he said with a smile.

"I know, Mr. O'Toole," Shane replied, looking at him once more, his smile drawing her into another moment where they held each other's gaze for far too long, but neither wanted to look away.

"The saddest words are those left unsaid. I do not wish to leave them unspoken anymore, Shane..." he admitted, searching her eyes, the use of her first name a subtle signal that always seemed to move their conversations from the flirtatious to the personal. It was another pattern they had developed, but one that never failed to induce a skipped heartbeat or lost breath.

Shane could almost feel the earth moving beneath her feet. Her world was changing, and Oliver had called upon the words of Shakespeare to make it so. At the same time, she had a great peace about it. And suddenly the response came to her.

"When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled, because you knew," Shane whispered, in her eyes and in her words drawn also from Shakespeare, the gentle reassurance that Oliver had been heard and understood, but, above all, the feelings were reciprocated.

"When I saw you, _I_ fell in love, and _you_ smiled, because _you_ knew," Oliver repeated, emphasizing the words to make his response. "But if I am to be quite honest, I smiled because I was a little flustered that I could not order a large black coffee," Oliver responded, his mind taking him back to that mobile coffeehouse where he first laid eyes on Shane McInerney.

Shane just laughed, and threaded her arm in his, a smile a mile wide on her face. He truly had developed a sense of humor that never ceased to amaze her, even in these quiet moments when they bore their souls to one another. Oliver could feel her smiling against his shoulder, and he welcomed the contact.

"Your recitations of Shakespeare have much improved, by the way," Oliver teased, causing her to laugh again. It brought him so much joy to hear the sound of that laugh.

"Oh, Oliver," Shane sighed, taking his hand and threading their fingers together, "What am I going to do with you?"

"All I ask is that you remain beside me-that's what I'd like you to do with me," Oliver replied quietly to her no doubt rhetorical question.

Shane's head raised from its place on Oliver's shoulder, and looked into his eyes, "I've always been right here."

And there they were, together, watching a beautiful sunrise, everything old becoming new and alive in the light of the morning.


End file.
